Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [122]
Ceres hovered over the edge of Paris, the sunlight glaring on her white balloon. A gorgeous day. The air above decks was crisp, zombies moaned below, and she had Archimedes by her side.
Temür Agha stood on the cargo lift, waiting for Nasrin. The gan tsetseg glanced at him before turning back to Yasmeen. “If the lady allows it, I will see you again, sister.”
Perhaps. After learning that the Horde soldiers had been abandoning the outposts, Temür Agha had decided that, rather than wandering the empire on Lady Khojen’s path, he would start at the outpost near Paris and begin gathering up rebels, slowly marching east. They would be in Europe for some time . . . and so, yes, it was possible that Yasmeen would meet them again.
“I look forward to it,” she said.
Nasrin leaned forward, kissed her cheeks, then kissed Archimedes’. With a smile, she turned toward the cargo lift—but of course she did not go down that way. She leapt, and by the time the lift rattled its way to the ground and Temür stepped off, a mob of dead zombies littered the snow.
Yasmeen smiled, watching them begin their long walk before looking to Archimedes. “I would have chosen Lady Khojen’s path.”
“So would I. But for now, our path goes to Port Fallow.” Archimedes took her hand. “Where does it go from there? I am an adventurer, you are a mercenary, but with the sketch, we will both have money enough to do whatever we like. Will you still be with me?”
“Idiot. I just said, I’d have chosen Lady Khojen’s path.” She lifted onto her toes, kissed him. Why not? This would not be her crew for much longer. “That path is to go traveling the world with her man—except I will not die at the hands of bandits. And I will still take passengers, and make more money.”
“I’ll make it with you. And I will still throw myself into crypts filled with zombies.”
“Then I will throw myself with you,” she said. “But first we need a lady to throw ourselves from.”
The Vashon shipyards seemed to be the perfect place to find her. Three weeks after selling their sketch for five thousand more than they’d anticipated, and four days after receiving a letter from Ollivier confirming al-Amazigh’s death, Yasmeen and Archimedes traveled to the New World to search for her new lady. They took out a two-seater balloon, weaving around the airships tethered above Port-au-Prince’s turquoise water.
“That would match my waistcoat,” Archimedes said, pointing to a bright orange balloon, then laughed when Yasmeen gave him a look to kill. “You’re right. The zombies would probably be leaping into the sky trying to catch us.”
“And I would die of embarrassment before I ever stepped aboard.”
He had never dreamed that choosing an airship would be like taking his sister to buy a hat for her birthday. He only cared that they had a cabin big enough for a small library and their bed made of pillows, and that it wouldn’t fall out of the sky on the first run. “You have said that of most these ships.”
“It is true of most.” She pushed the steering lever and pedaled, circling around the orange envelope. A skyrunner appeared in front of them.
Archimedes had hope. “She looks like your lady.”
“Too much,” Yasmeen said, and her eyes softened as her gaze ran over its lines. “She is the same model, but I hate her for not being the same. And—Oh. There.”
Had she ever looked at another person with such longing, Archimedes’ heart would have broken. But he understood too well that the sleek airship was something else to her—a life with no walls. She felt the wind on her face; he ran from zombies. They could not choose what they loved, but he thanked God for his luck in finding a woman to share it.
They rode the two-seater to her decks, and he heard Yasmeen’s sigh as her feet touched the boards. Her fingers trailed over the wooden rail as she walked along the side, and he saw the shaking of her hands as she stepped onto the quarterdeck and looked out over the bow.
A Vashon came up the rope ladder. Having seen several members of the family now, Archimedes wasn’t convinced